To Catch a Mage
by Hot elf
Summary: After the Chantry explosion Bethany is on the run, trying to hide from the Templars. But when one particular Templar finds her, things turn out differently than she expected. Sort of sequel to "Too Hot", written for the DARBB.
1. On the Run

_This was written for the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang and was inspired by a picture by the wonderful and talented chenria._

* * *

**Chapter 1 - On the Run **

The quaint little inn, heart of social life in the tiny fishing village on the Waking Sea, was crowded with refugees from Kirkwall. Yet Tabby had somehow procured two rooms for them, whether by capitalizing on her fame as Tabitha Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, or through the liberal application of bribes, Bethany didn't know. She didn't want to know either. Her sister could be fairly ruthless, and she had little doubt that some poor family or other had been turned out to make room for them.

Tabby and Isabela seized the smaller room, eager for some privacy, while Bethany, Fenris and Merrill shared the other one. Their lodgings were primitive and less than clean, but no one complained.

"It's only for a night, anyway. Tomorrow we'll be at sea. Gosh, I wonder if I will get seasick." Normally Bethany didn't mind Merrill's inconsequential chatter, but on this particular night it grated on her nerves.

Fenris had already withdrawn to his bunk bed, face against the wall, making no secret of the fact that he wasn't interested in company. Bethany suppressed a sigh. She couldn't blame the elf. They had all been on edge ever since they had left Kirkwall behind ten days ago. The city had been in turmoil, the poor fighting in the streets, the rich barricaded into what was left of their mansions, the Chantry a smoking pile of rubble. Briefly she spared a thought for Anders' fate. Tabby had only shrugged when people had called for her to kill the mage for his deed, refusing to take responsibility for his death, but she had made it abundantly clear that he would be on his own once the fight against Meredith was over.

The room was stuffy and Bethany decided to go out onto the rickety balcony for a breath of fresh sea air. They were set to leave early in the morning, on board Isabela's ship. The _Sea's Pearl_ was hidden away in a cove not far from here for just such an eventuality. Bethany had no idea where they would head once they were at sea. It wasn't likely that Tabby and Isabela would consult any of the others about their preferred destinations.

With a start she realized that she could hear their voices through the open window. They hadn't noticed her in the darkness, and Bethany was about to withdraw discreetly when she heard her name and stopped in her tracks.

"Look, Tabs, I know Bethany is your little sister and you love her, but you have to see she's a danger to us all." Isabela's voice was calm and almost expressionless. "The Templars in Kirkwall still have her phylactery, and they can use it to track us down. Every one of us is in the line of fire as long as she's with us."

"What are you suggesting, Bela?" Tabby sounded agitated. "That I leave the last surviving member of my family behind? Throw her to the Templars to save my own skin? Blight it, I have a duty to protect her."

"Oh, you know very well she isn't all that helpless." Isabela seemed undaunted. "I pity the poor Templar who tries to attack her. Besides... Who knows, maybe she even wants to go back to the Circle, deep down inside. After all, she went there of her own free will, remember?"

Bethany swallowed. It was true - joining the Circle had been her own decision. And it hadn't been all bad. There had been things to learn, books to read, and she had made a few friends. But the mere thought of being dragged back there by enraged Templars, intent on punishing her for running away for the role she had played in Meredith's downfall, sent shivers down her spine.

"I don't want to hear another word, Bela." Tabby sighed. "No matter how great the risk, Beth is my sister and I'm not leaving her behind."

"But-" Isabela was obviously not ready to give up.

Yet Bethany had heard enough. Her heart was beating so fast that she was surprised the others couldn't hear it when she came back into the room. Not that they actually took any notice of her. Fenris was asleep or pretended to be, and Merrill was completely engrossed in one of her books. Bethany sat down on her bed, trying to calm the thoughts racing through her mind. When Merrill finally blew out her candle and curled up on her bunk, ready to sleep, her decision was made.

She waited for another hour or so before she grabbed her staff and her pack and carefully opened the wooden door. It squeaked a little on its hinges and Fenris opened a sleepy eye, mumbling a question, but she muttered something about _going to the bathroom_ and slipped through the door before she could change her mind. Once down the stairs, she pulled her hood over her head and made her way to the back door. No one stopped her; no one asked where she was going. There were too many strangers around, refugees who were desperate for food and lodgings and who could be relieved of their more valuable belongings by any enterprising villager.

As soon as Bethany was outside, she headed for the inland road. She was sure the others wouldn't follow her in the morning. They couldn't afford to lose so much time, and Isabela would insist on leaving. She walked briskly, eager to be gone. The flagstones gave way to packed earth, but the track was easy to follow. She could see a forest looming ahead, ready to swallow her up as she got closer.

Bethany was not afraid of the dark, nor of anyone she might encounter out there. Isabela had been right so far - she could defend herself perfectly well. Yet as the distance between her and the others grew, the pain in her chest increased by small increments, until she had to stop and take a deep breath. Leaving them all behind, her sister, the people she had called friends for so long... it hurt. But she was sure it was the right choice.

* * *

At the break of dawn Bethany became too tired to go on, so she built herself a nest from twigs and leaves a little way from the road and slept for a few hours. She hadn't passed any villages so far, and the terrain was getting wilder and more mountainous with each mile she walked. Her meagre provisions were nearly used up, and she would have to find food and shelter soon. So far the weather had been dry and clement, but she knew it could change quickly up here.

She came across the mages' camp in the late afternoon. The first indication of their presence was a slight tingle in the air, residual energy from a protective spell, too faint for most people to notice. Yet she recognized it immediately, being familiar with it from the years when they had been on the run and her father had cast a similar charm to hide them from prying eyes. They knew she was there, of course, and a small group came out to meet her.

"Hey there! Who are you and what is your business around here?" The speaker wasn't wearing any robes, just a simple peasants' dress, but Bethany could easily sense her magical aura. She was also very frightened, judging by the tremor in her voice.

Bethany raised her staff, very slowly, turning it sideways to show she didn't mean to attack. She would have to tread carefully. The five people who had surrounded her were eyeing her with considerable suspicion and this could easily get out of control.

"My name is Bethany. I am a mage, on the run from the Gallows in Kirkwall. Please, I mean you no harm, I just seek shelter for the night." Though it was anyone's guess if they would be able to help her, she thought wryly. They looked ragged and exhausted, as if they hadn't slept or eaten properly in days. They were also all very young, barely more than apprentices.

The air was tense with distrust. "I don't recall seeing you there. Prove it." A young man stepped to the front. "Prove you're a mage."

Her lips curled up involuntarily. "What would you like me to do?"

He shrugged. "A magelight. A wisp. Anything to prove your claim."

For a moment pride welled up inside her and she was tempted to show him the true extent of her powers. _A wisp? You have no idea what I am capable of, boy. _But then she took a closer look at him and relented. He was really hardly more than a boy, desperately trying to hide his fear behind bravado. With a sigh she muttered a rejuvenation spell, wrapping all of them in its soothing glow. There was a collective gasp of surprise.

"You're a healer?" The young woman who had spoken first, looked at her hopefully. "We're sorely in need of one. Will you come with us?"

Bethany nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. "Not much of a healer, actually, but I will do what I can. Where are you taking me?"

"To our camp." Motioning for Bethany to follow her, the girl turned to go.

The camp turned out to be an array of simple tents, grouped around a central fireplace. Bethany looked around surreptitiously and just barely bit back an exasperated sigh. It was painfully obvious none of them had ever set up a site like this before, let alone knew anything about defensible positions or elementary camp hygiene. But what could you expect from people who had grown up in the Circle?

There were about twenty to thirty people milling around between the tents, and she thought she recognized a few familiar faces in the crowd, but it was hard to be sure without the familiar robes and cowls. There had been so many mages in the Gallows, and she had mostly kept to herself. Yet when they took her to their leader, Bethany recognized him straight away.

She inclined her head slightly. "Alain. I am glad to see you alive."

The young mage nodded, unsmiling. "Bethany Hawke. I hadn't expected to see you here. I thought you were safe with your sister, the Champion."

There was a faint undertone of contempt in his voice, when he mentioned Tabby. The Circle mages had expected more support from her when it had become common knowledge that the Champion's sister was a mage, but Tabby had tried to remain neutral as long as she could, unwilling to antagonize someone as powerful as Meredith.

Bethany rubbed her aching neck. "I'm on my own. Can I stay with you, at least for a few days? I'll try to make myself useful."

His face softened a little. "Of course. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. We will be glad to have a mage of your abilities among us."

They took her to a little tent that she was to share with three others. Bethany didn't complain. She was grateful for the little they had to offer. Yet as she set out her belongings and prepared to help with healing, she couldn't shake off the feeling that her stay would be brief. Someone was following her, she was almost certain. _I'd better keep my distance. It seems I'm bad luck._


	2. Clash

**Chapter 2 - Clash **

The little woodland didn't look like an ideal place to hide, not enough undergrowth for one, and no streams or lakes that would attract game. Yet the phylactery's signal was unmistakable, and the innkeeper in the adjoining village had reluctantly admitted that it might be where the mages were holed up.

Cullen frowned. The man had been less than cooperative and it had taken a fair amount of bribery mixed with a hint of menace to get him to help. Things had changed. Back when he had hunted runaway mages in Ferelden, people had usually gone out of their way to support the Templars. No one wanted dangerous apostates on the loose. Now, however, with rumours of Meredith's madness spreading, the common people regarded his armour with a distrust formerly reserved for magic users.

The phylactery felt warm in his hand and for a moment her image flashed across his inner eye with painful clarity. _Bethany Hawke._ For one single, glorious afternoon on the journey back from Chateau Haine she had been his, a beautiful, smart, strong woman who had looked at him with such love, such desire... Now he was supposed to hunt her down, just like the other mages.

When he had set out from Kirkwall two weeks ago, searching for a trace of her, he had told himself he just wanted to catch up with her before another Templar did and get her safely back to the Gallows without any bloodshed. But as time had passed, it had become clear to him that his motives were far more complicated than that.

Cullen paused briefly at the edge of the trees to look for tracks, but if the mages had passed along here, they had taken care to cover up their trail. Could it be that he was mistaken after all? Yet the blood in her phylactery would not lie. She had to be close. _Bethany_. The woman who had made him change his mind about mages.

There had been a time when he'd considered all of them dangerous and unpredictable. He'd been badly scarred by the events at Kinloch, by the torture he'd undergone at the hands of those he'd sworn to protect. Cullen had cared for the mages, maybe more than he should have. He had even been on the brink of falling in love with one of them. When his charges had betrayed him, he had become leery of trusting one of them ever again. Maker, he could still hear his own words in his head. _Mages cannot be treated like people. They're not like you and me. They are weapons. They have the power to light a city on fire in a fit of pique._

Then Bethany had arrived at the Gallows, joining the Circle of her own free will. For years he had watched her from afar, fascinated by her beauty and kindness, and slowly, step by step, she had overcome his prejudices. She was not like the Circle mages. Bethany was uncommonly strong and disciplined. Maybe it was precisely because she hadn't spent her whole life locked up and watched by others. All her life she had been responsible for her own actions, and she had trained herself to withstand the temptation to use forbidden magic. He smiled at the memory of her face. There was such an innate goodness in Bethany that he simply couldn't imagine her falling to a demon's wiles.

Cullen had been lost in thought and only noticed the shadowy figures surrounding him when it was too late. When one of them stepped out from among the trees to challenge him, it took him a moment to recognize the man.

"Alain?" The young mage looked different without his robe and cowl; clad in leathers, his almost girlishly pretty features hardened with resolve.

"Knight-Captain Cullen?" Alain sounded incredulous. "What are you doing out here, all by yourself?"

Some of the shadows around him moved closer. Recognizing the veiled threat, Cullen swallowed, forcing himself to stay calm. "I'm looking for Bethany Hawke. Please, if you've seen her... I bear her no ill will."

Alain snorted contemptuously. "I wouldn't tell you if I knew where she was. What could you want from her except take her back, or worse." He raised his voice. "Look at him, everyone. Meredith's trusted Knight-Captain. I already knew him back in Starkhaven. He was sent there from Ferelden after he killed three mages, they said."

Cullen sighed. _That rumour again_. When he had arrived in the Free Marches, years ago, his reputation had preceded him, the incident that had made him leave Kinloch blown up to ridiculous proportions. Yes, he had smitten three young mages who had teased him in the Tower. One of them had suffered a broken arm, another a severe concussion. An excessive reaction, no doubt, and Greagoir had been furious. But gossip had turned the event into a full-scale massacre.

"It's not true, Alain." He took a deep breath. "Whatever you may have heard, I swear to you I never killed a single mage. Not unless they had succumbed to demons and had become abominations. I would never-"

"What difference does it make?" Alain was almost shouting now. "You are just like the others! What did you do to prevent what was happening in Kirkwall? Why didn't you protect me from Ser Karras? Where were you when he snuck into my rooms at night? Where were you when he-" The mage broke off, biting back a sob.

Cullen was too shocked to answer straight away. He and Karras had never been friendly, but if he'd known about this kind of abuse, he would have gotten involved. _But would you really?_ A small voice at the back of his head nagged at him. _Or would you have been too afraid of Meredith to raise your voice?_

He sighed. "I truly didn't know, Alain. If this is true, Karras deserved his death twice over. But I-"

"He did." Alain's face had turned into an ugly mask of hatred. "And so do you, Knight-Captain. Prepare to die."

Cullen felt rather than saw the mages around him raise their staves. His reaction was purely instinctual, a product of years of Templar training. The smite burst from him, draining them all of their mana in a single blast, knocking several of them down to the floor, stunned by the power he had unleashed.

None of them would be able to cast a single spell after an attack of this sort, and yet they advanced. His initial relief turned to apprehension at the feral look on their faces. They were carrying an odd assortment of weapons, sickles and daggers, smith's hammers and woodcutter's axes. And there were so many of them... Even as he raised his sword, he realized he didn't stand a chance to survive this encounter. Ice-cold sweat trickled down his spine as he looked into their wild, pitiless eyes. _Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. _

They closed in around him, lifting their weapons, and even now he found he couldn't do it. There was no way he would use his sword on those poor souls, clad in rags and desperate for justice. Lowering his blade, he closed his eyes and resigned himself to a horrible death. _I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder._

It had grown deathly quiet. One of the mages raised a hammer and brought it down with a vicious smirk. The world went dark.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, he was struck by a sudden fear he'd gone blind. All he could see was a light so white it caused a lance of pain to pierce through his head. Then the haze cleared and a face took shape above him. _Bethany?_ His battered head refused to accept what his eyes told him. How was it possible that he was here with her, his head pillowed in her lap, her sweet face looking down on him with a worried frown? Had the mages killed him and this was paradise? Cullen winced as he tried to lift his head. No. Paradise couldn't possibly be this painful.

"Shhh. Hold still. You need more healing." It was her voice, there was no mistaking it. The voice that had echoed in all his dreams ever since he had first kissed her, made love to her, seen his feelings mirrored in her eyes.

The familiar pleasant coolness of a healing spell descended upon him and his head cleared. Carefully he sat up and looked around. He was in a forest clearing, and judging by the position of the sun several hours had passed since his encounter with Alain and the mages. His armour had disappeared. Bethany was kneeling on the mossy forest floor next to him, clad in a simple tunic and pants. No robes. _Well, of course,_ a small voice in his mind whispered. _She's on the run. What did you expect?_

"Where's my armour? What happened to the mages?" His voice sounded raspy and unfamiliar and he realized his throat was parched.

Bethany took a moment to answer, rummaging in her pack for a water skin she handed to him. He accepted it with a grateful nod.

"I had to leave your armour behind. It's too conspicuous. People around here are not exactly happy to see a Templar. The mages..." She bit her lip. "I paralyzed them first, then sent each of them to sleep for a few hours. I used up most of my lyrium potions, but it was the only way, I believe. We should have a nice little head start."

He frowned. "Wait a minute. You mean you carried me here?"

"With a little magical help." There was a flash of humour in her eyes. "A good strength spell goes a long way."

"I see." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Why, Bethany? Why did you save me?"

Again she took her time, a faraway look on her face as she considered her answer. "I couldn't let them kill you. I know what happened in Kirkwall and you don't deserve to die. I was with my sister, remember, and I saw you turn on Meredith. But I don't think I could have explained this to them. They are blind with hatred, and I can't really blame them."

Cullen sighed. "I guess I never realized just how bad things had gotten. When Alain told me about Ser Karras-" He broke off. "That's not the way it should be, Bethany. The circles should be a safe place for everyone. They are meant to protect the mages, not to be a prison."

"Karras wasn't the only one." Bethany's face had hardened. "There were others. Meredith knew and turned a blind eye to it. To her, we weren't even people. Anything was acceptable in order to keep the mages in their proper place."

He flinched at her bitterness. "Meredith was mad. Whether it was the idol or whether it was just her own mind, she went far beyond anything the Templar order ever stood for. Not all of us are like her, Bethany."

"I know." For a moment she almost smiled.

Their eyes met and Cullen knew they were both thinking of the trip to Chateau Haine, of making love in the shade of the forest, of the sudden deep connection that had sprung up between them back then, only to be cruelly severed when they returned to Kirkwall. He sighed. If only they had been born simple peasants instead of a mage and a Templar, forced into opposing camps by the conflict that divided their world.

"What now?" She interrupted his train of thoughts. "Are you going to try to take me back? Because I won't come without a fight."

Cullen shook his head. Avoiding her gaze, he got to his feet and reached for the chain around his neck. He helped her up and when she was facing him, he gently placed the phylactery in her hand, closing her fingers over the small vial. "I came to bring you this."

Bethany gasped, her knuckles whitening as her grasp tightened. "What do you mean?"

He bit his lip, struggling to find the right words. "You're free to go. Though I hope you will let me come with you, let me watch over you and protect you."

She exhaled tremulously. "Cullen, I..."

"Bethany." Without waiting for her to finish, he pulled her into a close embrace. "Please don't send me away."

For a moment they remained like this, their faces so close they could feel each other's breath, caught up in a balance so delicate the tiniest movement could have broken it. Then their lips met, tentatively at first, gently reacquainting themselves until neither of them could bear it any more and their kiss grew deeper, more passionate. She was trembling in his arms, her body soft and pliant, her sweet lips yielding willingly to his assault, and Cullen couldn't get enough of her taste, her scent, of the soft mewling noise she made as he kissed her.

When he pulled back, he saw that her eyes had filled with tears. Gently he ran his thumb over her cheek, catching the salty drops. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

She swallowed. "This is so... overwhelming. I didn't know you still cared. Back at the Circle, you wouldn't even look at me. It was as if it had never happened, what we shared in the forest. I thought-"

"Shhh," his thumb brushed over her lip, gently silencing her. "What do you think Meredith would have done if she'd had even the smallest inkling of my feelings for you? She would have broken you, Bethany, just to make a point. And done the same to me in the process." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. "Not a single night passed without me dreaming of you, my love, dreaming of holding you in my arms again, kissing you-"

A twig cracked in the underground nearby and she froze in his arms. "We have to move on. It isn't safe here."

"We?" There was no way he could hold back the smile forming on his face.

"Of course." Bethany glanced up at him, a hint of mischief in her answering smile. "Someone needs to make sure you stay out of trouble, after all."


	3. A Ray of Hope

**Chapter 3 - A Ray of Hope **

Bethany took the lead as they made their way through the woodland, carefully avoiding the trodden paths and sticking to the cover of the trees. The sleep spells would soon wear off, and she was sure the other mages would try to follow them, eager to have their revenge on the hated Templar and to make sure he wouldn't come after them.

Yet she wasn't overly worried. Most of them had lived in the Gallows for all of their lives, whereas she had spent her youth on the outskirts of the Korcari Wilds, roaming the woods around Lothering with Carver and Tabby. She knew how to move through the forest without leaving tracks, and she was pleased to see Cullen did too. No longer encumbered by his heavy armour, he moved with the easy grace of a hunter, bending back twigs and avoiding rotten tree trunks with sure steps.

Now and again she threw a glance back at him, as if to make sure she hadn't dreamt it all. Part of her still couldn't believe he was here with her and had given her the greatest gift he could. Her hand closed around the phylactery, tied safely around her neck with a bit of string. They would have to destroy it later, when she found a safe means to do so.

A low rumble sounded above, and she glanced up, noting with a frown that the sky had darkened so much as to be almost black. Heavy storm clouds were looming above them, and while the rain would almost certainly scare off their pursuers, she didn't welcome the thought of spending the night soaked through and shivering with no shelter but the leafy canopy of the trees.

Cullen seemed to share her concern, staring at the sky with a worried expression. The first thick drops had already begun to fall when he cried out sharply. "There. A cabin."

She had almost missed the tiny building, a mere woodcutters' hut, built from rough-hewn logs and thatched with tree bark. It was crudely built and looked to be deserted, but it would do. Quickly they made their way over to the small building, slipping through the door at the last minute before the downpour began in earnest.

Even so, their cloaks were soaked at the shoulders, and they quickly took them off. Bethany found a place to spread them for drying, while Cullen immediately got busy on lighting a fire in the primitive hearth. A quick inspection of her surroundings showed her a simple bunk bed, a plain wooden table with a bench and a single solid chair next to it, and a few chests along the wall, containing firewood, blankets and a few emergency provisions, most of them spoilt by damp and parasites. She stepped up to the small window and peeked out. The rain was falling in thick sheets, making it impossible to look farther than the closest row of trees. A flash of lightning cut through the dark sky, followed by another rumble.

She was about to turn back and check her pack for a change of clothes, when two large, firm hands settled around her waist.

"Bethany." Cullen's voice sounded rough with longing.

With a sigh, she leaned back into his warmth, revelling in the feeling of being surrounded by his strong arms, supported by his solid frame. Her shirt had gotten damp despite the heavy cloak and it clung to her shoulders. She heard him inhale deeply, breathing in her scent. He brushed aside her hair and she felt his lips on her neck, worshipping every inch of her skin, nibbling gently on her collarbone, roving back up to her throat and ears.

He was gentle but thorough, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't missed a single spot. Bethany closed her eyes, willing him to go on, never to stop, because it felt so good, all soft warm lips and quick little kisses until he suddenly bit down hard at the junction of her neck and shoulder. She arched up in his arms with a quick, almost feverish gasp, eliciting a small, knowing chuckle from him.

She smiled to herself at this, determined to beat him at this game. With exquisite slowness she moved her hips in a small, undulating motion, grinding herself back against him. It was his turn to gasp. She smiled again and repeated the motion.

Cullen gave a strangled groan, a hoarse, needy noise that sent shivers down her spine. Without further ado, he spun her around in his arms and hotly kissed her throat, all the way down to the gentle swell of her breasts, at the same time stumbling backwards until his legs hit the seat of the chair. He sat down with a heavy thud, pulling her on his lap, his lips never leaving her skin.

Bethany was completely helpless against the sudden onslaught of raw need. She was on fire for him, burning with the desire to have him and she couldn't wait, eagerly helping him to strip her of her shirt and pants. His own clothes joined hers on the floor and then he pulled her close again so she was straddling him, her wet heat brushing against his hard, throbbing cock, teasing her with what she wanted most.

"Cullen, please." She had never wanted a man so badly in her whole life, never felt such an urgent need to be joined with him, to feel him deep inside her.

His hands locked around her waist again, a tight grasp that made her feel oddly safe and then she was sliding down his length with exquisite slowness until he was fully seated inside her, filling her and stretching her, making her complete.

"Hold on." She kept deliberately still for what seemed like an eternity, savouring every second of their closeness until he couldn't hold back any longer and his hips snapped up against her. It was just a tiny move, but it nearly made her come undone, the incredible perfection of feeling him shift inside her.

His lips were back on her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, kissing and nipping and making her whimper with desire, even as he thrust up again, another single, slow move, but deeper and more intense this time. Then another, and yet another, until he fell into a sure, steady rhythm, refusing to be rushed.

Bethany leant back into his arms and let him set the pace, admiring the play of muscles in his firm chest and taut stomach. His eyes opened and met hers and he smiled, a smile so devastatingly sweet and tender that she swallowed hard. Then he sped up, his hips pumping harder while his hand moved between her legs to caress her with feather light, fast touches.

Within moments he had her keening with lust, her legs tightening around his waist, her core throbbing with arousal, and still he kept going, never breaking the rhythm until she cried out in earnest, overwhelmed by the sweetness of her release, going limp in his arms even as he spent himself inside her.

He held her for a few breaths, then he carefully slid out of her and got up, lifting her and carrying her over to the bed.

"I love you," he breathed into her hair as he pulled her close and spooned his body around hers so that they could both watch the flames.

She wiggled around far enough to be able to look into his eyes and place a kiss on his lips. "I love you too. Good night, Cullen."

They snuggled up under a warm woollen blanket and listened to the patter of raindrops on the roof, too exhausted and overcome to speak. Soon they fell asleep, his arm around her shoulder, her face hidden against his broad chest.

* * *

At some point in the middle of the night she was woken by a crackling noise, a log that had fallen from the hearth, smouldering faintly on the earthen floor. It was almost dark and in the dim light she could just about make out Cullen's features, so peaceful in repose. Her throat tightened with emotion. Sleeping in his arms, she felt utterly safe and warm, for the first time in many years. He gave a low grunt and his grip on her shoulders tightened. Smiling, she closed her eyes and snuggled even closer to him. The patter of the rain on the roof was comforting, lulling her back to sleep within moments.

When she opened her eyes in the morning, he was already awake, looking down on her affectionately, playing with a lock of her hair.

"Morning." She squinted up at him, wondering how he could look so incredibly perfect so early in the day.

"Morning, sleepyhead." He chuckled softly as he tousled her already messed up hair. "You look cute like this."

"What do you mean, cute?" She pouted and disentangled herself from the blanket, reaching over him for her pack.

"All mussed up and scrunched up from sleeping." Another low chuckle, and his hand settled possessively on her full hips, lazily stroking her in soft circles.

She threw him a dark look. "There's got to be a brush somewhere in here... Ah, there it is."

"Let me." He sat up and took the brush from her hands, motioning for her to turn around so he could run it through her long black tresses.

Bethany closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of being taken care of, listening to the sound of him breathing, enjoying the warmth of his body so close to hers. The sun had risen and a golden ray of light was shining through one of the windows.

"What now?" She leaned back into his embrace when he had finished brushing. "We need to move on. But where?"

He kissed her shoulder, one arm tightening around her waist. "Let's go back to Ferelden. I have some money. We could buy a small farm, settle down. No one needs to know where we come from. I'll be a farmer and you'll be my wife. Would you like that?"

Bethany bit her lip. She knew it wouldn't be that easy. There were so many things that could go wrong with his plan. Someone could recognize her as a mage and turn her in to the authorities. And they would have to find a way to deal with his addiction to lyrium, if he no longer had access to the Templars' supplies. No matter how much they loved each other, things would never be easy for them. And yet...

"I would like that very much." She took his hand between hers, pressing it hard. "You know there's always a chance we'll have to run again?"

He nodded, returning the pressure. "I know. But I'd rather be on the run with you than safe with anyone else."

When they stepped outside the cabin, the sun was shining brightly, and Bethany couldn't help feeling it was a good omen. _No, it won't be easy. But there's hope. And hope will light our way._

* The end *

* * *

_Hugs and thanks to ShebasDawn for a quick and thorough beta job!  
_


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